


Stargate: SG1 Drabble Collection

by zinke



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: This is collection of dribbles written for the SG1 fandom between January - June 2010.





	1. Deafening Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve done it. I have committed SG1 fic. It’s only a drabble, yes; but now that its been written I sense there will be no going back. I place full blame for this on y’all – you know who you are. *g*

Not so long ago, Carter would’ve welcomed this silence. Hunched over her microscope, she’d have been silently praying for the moment the Colonel would finally take the hint and amble off to find someone else – Daniel usually or, if he were really desperate, Teal’c – on whom he could inflict his terrible puns.

But as the weeks continue to quietly slip by and she still hasn’t found a way to bring him home, the longed-for stillness of her lab becomes almost deafening. 

A wholly different sort of distraction; one she’s now learned she could happily do without. 

If given the choice.

 

*fin.*


	2. Serious Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last but not least…written for my personal LJ’s three-year anniversary call for drabble prompts. hooloovoo_42 asked for an SG1/Sports Night crossover fic using the prompt ‘hockey’.

_"I'm Dan Rydell, he's Casey McCall, you've been watching Sports Night."_

Picking up the remote, Jack turns off the TV, then turns expectantly to his companion. “Well?”

“I have found that the people of this world take their sports seriously.”

“Oh, you betcha.”

“Then why not simply watch these hockey games as they occur?”

“Because PX3-41-whatever doesn’t get cable.”

“Could you not record them to watch at another time?”

“Well, if I could figure out how to program my VCR, sure…”

“Perhaps you could have Captain Carter show you.”

“You know T, I think you’re kinda missing the point, here.”

 

*fin.*


	3. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for my personal LJ’s three-year anniversary call for drabble prompts. coloneljack asked for an SG1 Sam/Jack fic using the prompt ‘footprints’. Sadly, Sam and Jack would not cooperate, so this turned into a Sam-centric fic instead. Clearly I need to invest in a zatarc detector.

Jack scraps the mission after three days of cold, pelting rain. 

Sam covers their six as they make their way back to the Gate, head bowed and attention focused on following the slowly fading trail of her teammate’s footprints in the mud. She recognizes each man’s by sight alone: Teal’c’s substantial, assured tread; Daniel’s smudged and harried step; the careful, agile footfalls of the Colonel. Slowing, Sam glances behind her to consider the curve and depth of her own print, and struggles to decipher what she sees. 

“C’mon Carter! I’m drowning out here!”

Sighing, she turns and trudges after them.

 

*fin.*


	4. Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a drabble I’ve been playing around with over my extended weekend of convalescence, which has included much watching of SG1. Who knew the show possessed such restorative powers? Or that a Benadryl/Robitussin combination could bring out the emo? *g*

Colonel O’Neill is kissing me.

Her. Kissing her.

I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like, coming through that mirror carrying the fate of her world on her shoulders – only to be confronted with the living, breathing ghost of the man she’d lost. 

Her husband. 

Except this Jack O’Neill is not – never was – that man. 

He’s someone else. Someone else’s. 

Except he’s not. Not really.

But that doesn’t make their embrace – or the subsequent flash of resentment I feel – any easier to accept.

As much as Dr. Carter and I may look, sound, and even at times think alike, we are not the same. Different decisions creating different realities, resulting in two entirely different people leading completely different lives. 

I am not her. She isn’t me. It should be as simple as that. 

But evidently, it’s not.

Because as I watch them from this side – our side – of the mirror, I can’t figure out which aspect of this situation upsets me more: that the Colonel seems blind to that simple, basic truth…or that in this moment, I can see nothing else.

Despite my earlier bravado, a part of me can – and has – imagined. 

And for perhaps the first time since stepping through the gate, I find myself wondering whether some possibilities might be better left unexplored. 

 

*fin.*


End file.
